Wake Up

A Story by Shannon Miller

Wrote this to express myself

Deirdre’s been asleep for so long. It’s been days since I’ve seen her smile, heard her laugh, seen her eyes light up when she thinks of her boyfriend, watched her hands move with precision and purpose as she draws. Now all I see is the IV in her arm. All I hear is the humming of the machines that breathe for her.

I sit next to her bed in the sterile white room, watching her chest rise and fall. I can see the pulse in her neck, but I know it’s only there because the machines work. She’s not breathing because she wants to, but because wires and tubes are keeping her alive.

I haven’t moved in several hours, and although I am numb where I sit in the chair and my bladder is protesting, I don’t want to leave. What if she wakes up while I’m gone?

I finally give in and stand, stretching, but not luxuriously. There is no luxury to be had for me. I walk into the small bathroom in her room. I think about what it would be like if she was awake when I walk back out. I would be so happy. I think I would be happier than the day she was born. But I know she won’t wake up. She doesn’t want to wake up.

As I wash my hands, I look in the mirror. There are wrinkles under my eyes, frown lines around my mouth, worry lines on my forehead. They have been there for a long time, but seem all the more prominent now. I have done hardly anything but worry and frown since Deirdre fell asleep.

Walking out of the bathroom and sitting back down next to her, my muscles screaming in protest, I remember things Deirdre had told me. She had once said that she didn’t want to wake up the next morning, but I had written it off and told her she was being dramatic. I told her things like “Other people have it worse,” and “You’ll be fine.” I never took her seriously or listened, never thought twice about her sarcastic remarks about running away, never considered that maybe there was something terrible going on behind her eyes.

Now, in the hospital bed, I can’t even see her eyes. Whatever is going on in her beautiful mind must be more peaceful than what it had been before, since she hasn’t woken up. What if there’s nothing going on behind her eyelids? I wonder if maybe that’s what she wanted - to sink into nothingness.

My head drops into my hands as the shame crashes over me once again. There are so many things I could have done differently, so many things I could have said, so many things I shouldn’t have said. I turn scenarios over and over in my head, trying to think of how things would have played out if I had been better. Would she be awake, would she be smiling and laughing, if I had been there? If I hadn’t been so distant?

My mind wanders back to the time when she was little and I took her to the beach. I don’t care much for the ocean, but she had enough fun for the both of us, splashing and laughing away. I can’t help but wonder where that carefree little girl disappeared to, and if I’m the one who lost her.

It is several minutes before I sigh heavily and stand stiffly, picking up my coat and shuffling toward the door. I glance over my shoulder once more at Deirdre, hoping once again that she’ll stir, but she doesn’t. I leave, my heart and mind heavy, neither dreading nor looking forward to tomorrow, another day that will be spent waiting for her to wake up.